“I was thinking—­Mr. Dinwiddie, papa.”  Daisy did not quite know how well this last name would be relished, and she coloured a little apprehensively.

“You are impartial in your professional tastes, I am glad to see,” said Mr. Randolph.  Then observing how innocent of understanding him was the grave little face of Daisy, he bent down to kiss her.

“And you are unfortunate in your favourites.  Both at a distance!  How is Gary McFarlane?”

“Papa, I think he has good nature; but I think he is rather frivolous.”

Mr. Randolph looked soberly at the little face before him, and went away thinking his own thoughts.  But he had the cruelty to repeat to Dr. Sandford so much of this conversation as concerned that gentleman; in doing so he unwittingly laid the foundation of more attention to Daisy on the doctor’s part, than he probably would ever otherwise have given her.  To say truth—­the idea propounded by Daisy was so very novel to the doctor that it both amused and piqued him.

Mr. Randolph had hardly gone out, when Hephzibah came in.  And then followed a lesson the like of which Daisy had not given yet.  Hephzibah’s attention was on everything but the business in hand.  Also, she had a little less awe of Daisy lying on Mrs. Benoit’s couch in a loose gown, than when she met her in the Belvidere at Melbourne, dressed in an elegant cambrick frock with a resplendent sash.

“C, a, spells ca, Hephzibah.  Now what is that?”

“Over your finger?”

“Yes.”

“That’s—­C.”

“C, a.  And what does it spell?”

“Did the stone fall right onto your foot?”

“Yes—­partly on.”

“And was it broke right off?”

“No.  O no.  Only the bone of my ankle was broken.”

“It smarted some, I guess; didn’t it?”

“No.  Now Hephzibah, what do those two letters spell?”

“C, a, ca.  That don’t mean nothin’.”

“Now the next.  D, a—­”

“What’s D, a?”

“D, a, da.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing; only it spells that.”

“How soon’ll you be up again?”

“I do not know.  In a few weeks.”

“Before the nuts is ripe?”

“O yes, I hope so.”

“Well, I’ll shew you where there’s the biggest hickory nuts you ever see!  They’re right back of Mr. Lamb’s barn—­only three fields to cross—­and there’s three hickory trees; and the biggest one has the biggest nuts, mother says, she ever see.  Will you go and get some?”

“But, Hephzibah, those are Mr. Lamb’s nuts, aren’t they?”

“I don’t care.”

“But,” said Daisy, looking very grave, “don’t you know, Hephzibah, it is wrong to meddle with anything that belongs to other people?”

“He hain’t no right to ’em, I don’t believe.”

“I thought you said they were in Mr. Lamb’s field?”

“So they be.”

“Then they are his nuts.  You would not like anybody to take them, if they belonged to you.”